


Doppleganger

by rowdyhooligan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Mind Games, Nightmares, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-19 21:58:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17009985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowdyhooligan/pseuds/rowdyhooligan
Summary: A shifter hunt leaves the reader shaken when it takes on a familiar face.





	Doppleganger

**Author's Note:**

> cross-posted from tumblr

The acrid taste of bile was heavy on your tongue the longer you stared at him. Though you knew logically there was no way it could be him, that he would never say or do these terrible things, it did nothing to stop the burn of tears. To see that familiar face staring back at you with mockery and ridicule in those baby blue eyes…the sting of it was too great to ignore. 

“What’s the matter, shug? Is the truth too much to handle?” it drawled in his voice.

You hated that it hurt, the low croon of his accented words like an arrow to your heart. Shoving down the anger and pain, you tried to remain calm and keep a level head. “You’re not Benny.”

“Maybe,” it shot back lazily, “maybe not. Doesn’t really matter, now does it? I have his thoughts, his memories…all the things he never says. Like how much of a damn burden it is keepin’ you around. Why do you think he always tags along when you go out on hunts, like now? It’s cuz he knows you can’t hunt worth a damn on your own.”

“You’re lying,” your voice wavered, lacking conviction.

“Tell yourself that if ya like, but you know the truth. He’s always having to swoop in and save your ass, usually gettin’ banged up in the process. I guess you could say I’m doing him a favor, really- after today, he isn’t gonna have to worry about that anymore. Of course, after today he isn’t gonna have to worry about much once I send him back to Purgatory, one way ticket.”

 _That_  got your attention, the bone deep need to protect Benny rearing its vicious head; like Hell were you going to let some shifter send the man you loved back to that place. Gripping your silver knife more firmly, you did your best to block out his words, concentrating instead on his movements. He circled to the side, pacing as he studied you with a smirk. The expression looked out of place on Benny’s face, but that only made it easier to see the shifter instead of the vampire.

“That,” you said with barely restrained fury, “is never going to happen.”

“We’ll see about that.”

When he shifted his weight forward, you were ready, dodging to the side as he barreled toward you. He anticipated your move, but you ducked beneath his searching arm, swiping at him with the silver blade. He let out a snarl when it connected with his side, whirling around with murder in his eyes. Benny’s face was twisted up in a furious scowl, a sight you’d never seen directed at you before. It was the face he wore when facing down monsters who hurt you, a face that promised retribution.

“That stings, you little bitch,” he growled out, Benny’s accent thick with rage. “I’m gonna enjoy ripping your throat out with these fangs.”

You didn’t respond, letting the years of training and hunter’s instinct take over. This was just a hunt, just another shifter who needed to be dealt with. The fact that he was wearing Benny’s face and form shouldn’t matter; at least, that’s what you kept repeating to yourself. When he charged at you again, it wasn’t Benny’s face contorted in anger, it wasn’t Benny’s barrel-chested body rushing at you.

Shifting your weight, you prepared to dodge him again, but this time he was ready. You weren’t fast enough to duck this time, pain exploding through you when he caught you, slamming you to your back . The knife clattered to the forest floor, Benny’s enraged face snarling down at you as those thick fingers wrapped around your throat and squeezed. There was no time to call out to the others for help, your lungs already burning.

“Toldja, didn’t I, little hunter bitch,” he ground out, “they’re gonna come over here and find your broken body on the ground, bled dry.”

Nails scrabbling, you pulled at his hand, struggling to break free. But Benny was strong, and the shifter had all of his strength right now; there was no getting away from that iron grip. Eyes watering, black stars filled your vision as his fingers dug in, choking the life out of you. Head going fuzzy from lack of oxygen, you spotted the knife off to the side. Flailing out desperately, your hand wrapped around the handle. With the last of your waning strength, you brought the knife up and buried it in his chest.

His hands spasmed open, a look of shock on his face. Taking advantage of the loosened grip, you shoved him off of you, coughing and gasping for air. Every lungful was a gift that scraped your raw throat with each inhale. In the distance, you heard the other’s calling out for you, but there was no way of answering as you fought to breathe. Struggling to sit up, you glanced over at the shifter, shuddering at the sight of Benny lying there so still.

The shouts of the others grew more frantic the longer it took for you to respond. Tears of pain slipped free as you forced out a hoarse, “Over here.”

The sounds of boots thundered in your direction as the Winchesters, Cas, and Benny rushed over to where you sat on the ground. They hurled questions at you, voices overlapping when they saw the state you were in. There was no way of answering, your throat burning, each intake of air scraping like a knife on the bruised flesh. Cas shouldered his way past the other men, placing a gentle hand on your neck and you damn near cried with relief as the cool wash of grace soothed the ache away.

The other three went silent as Cas helped you to your feet. Following their line of sight to the dead shifter on the ground, your knife hilt deep in its chest, still wearing Benny’s face. The vampire looked vaguely nauseous, stunned horror in his expression as he looked from it, to you, to it again. You couldn’t meet his eyes, shying away from his gaze.

“Well,” Dean broke the awkward silence after a moment, “that’s the last of ‘em- seven shifters, seven bodies…let’s get the hell out of here.”

The five of you booked it out of the woods, the brothers each giving you the Winchester ‘glad you didn’t die, hopefully the nightmares won’t freak you out too much’ pat on the back. Sam saved you the experience of having to retrieve your knife from the shifter’s chest before beginning the trek back to Baby. Cas gave you a soft smile, following after Sam and Dean. Left alone with Benny, you avoided his gaze, unsure of what to say.  

“Darlin’, I…” he began hesitantly.

“We should catch up with the others,” you cut him off, forcing yourself to look at him.

The image of the bloodthirsty snarl on the shifter’s face when he was choking you flashed through your mind, and you tried not to flinch when he took you gently by the arm; judging by the hurt look that flashed across Benny’s face, you weren’t entirely successful, but he was gracious enough to pretend he hadn’t noticed. Guilt swelled up in your chest, and you deliberately reached out to take his hand in yours, ignoring the memory of those broad fingers wrapped around your throat.

Leading him out of the tree cover, neither of you said a word as you headed for Baby, the others waiting for you. It was a tight squeeze, but with Cas’ pimpmobile on the fritz and the a.c. on Benny’s truck going out, there was no choice but for all of you to pile in. Sandwiched between Benny and Cas in the backseat, you tried to ignore the way the you were pressed up against Benny, subconsciously shifting away as much as possible in the cramped space.

No more was said of it all the way back to the bunker, and that night, after you washed the stink of the hunt away, if you had to steel yourself to lie down beside Benny in the bed you shared…well, it had been a long and tiring day. He seemed to sense that you were still on edge and lingered uncertainly at the door. You felt guilty for making him feel unwanted in his own room- however unintentional- and beckoned him closer. He was extra gentle, keeping his touch light as he held you, his voice a warm rumble, soothing to your tired mind. Despite the lingering tension, you were able to drift off, relaxing into his familiar warmth.

You weren’t aware of lashing out in your sleep until your hand connected with something solid. Jerking upright, you fumbled blindly in the dark, heart racing. Broad, calloused hands landed heavily on your shoulders; you wrenched yourself free of their grasp, knocking the wind out of yourself when you landed on the hard floor. Instinct took over, and you automatically rolled into a defensive crouch, waiting for the attack.

A frightened voice cut through the haze surrounding your sleep addled brain, calling your name over and over again. Light flared to life; squinting against the sudden brightness, you looked around wildly, your muddled mind struggling to catch up with the rest of you. A bearded face loomed over you. In your confused exhaustion, you didn’t see the fear and concern etched into every feature; instead, you saw the face of your attacker, the shifter from your nightmare returned to finish what he started.

You dove for the gun you knew was strapped to the back of your nightstand, but he was faster. On you in a heartbeat, you flailed against those broad arms wrapped around you, holding you tight. Lashing out with an elbow, you heard a grunt in your ear, but there was no give in the grip on you.

“Darlin’ it’s me, it’s Benny! Calm down, sweetheart, you gotta calm down!”

Somehow the words managed to finally clear the fog from your head. You went slack in his grip, the fight leaving you. “Benny?”

“That’s right, shug, it’s me. You’re alright, you’re okay, you’re safe now with your Benny bear.”

The wild pounding of your heart slowed as reality set in. You were back at the bunker, in your room, Benny’s arms caging you securely. Forcing yourself to take deep breaths, you willed the terror of your nightmare away, curling into Benny’s chest so he wouldn’t be able to see your face. He gradually loosened his grip on you, but didn’t relax his hold entirely, his arms holding you gingerly.

A loud knock at the door had you flinching deeper into him. Benny ran a soothing hand up your back, murmuring nonsense into your ear in an effort to calm you. Another knock sounded, this one more impatient, followed by a sleep roughened, “Everything okay in there?”

Cradling you to him, Benny answered, “‘s alright, brother, we’re good. You and Sam go on back to bed.”

“Ya sure?”

“It’s okay, Dean,” you added, voice wavering a bit, “just a nightmare.”

“If you’re sure,” came Sam’s worried voice.

There was shuffling on the other side of the door, and then just the two of you sitting in silence. Neither of you seemed willing to break it, but there was no denying the uneasy tension hanging in the air. You’d nearly shot Benny, a horrifying thought that filled you with shame and remorse. Lips trembling, you buried your face into the crook of his neck, unable to hold back the tears.

“I killed him, Benny…he had your face, and I killed him. And just now, he was you and I…” A broken sob cut off your words.

“Shhh,” he crooned, his arms growing tighter around you, “it’s alright, darlin’, I’ve got you now.”

“But-“

“No buts,” he cut you off. “Now, it’s pretty clear to me this hunt tore you up more than I realized. I figured you wouldn’t want to say anything in front of the others, but damn if I shouldn’t have brought it up when we got back. Be honest with me cher: are you feelin’ guilty about killing that shifter?”

“He _looked_  like you, Benny,” you stressed once more, “and that didn’t stop me from putting a knife in him. I saw you on the ground with a hole in your chest, and I was the one who put it there.”

He was quiet a moment, absorbing your words. In a measured tone, he said, “Shug, you know I love you. I thank my lucky stars for bringing me to you every day. You’re the smartest, bravest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met…but that has got to be the most fool thing that I’ve ever heard.”

Startled, you allowed him to coax your head up to meet his gaze. Benny looked at you with a sad smile on his face, brushing the tears from your cheeks before planting a soft kiss on your forehead. He huffed out a chuckle when you scrunched your face against the tickle of his beard, peppering you with kisses, the last one a slow, lingering kiss filled with aching tenderness. He poured the depth of his love into the kiss, which you returned in kind. When you finally parted, he rested his forehead against yours, the two of you sharing each other’s air.

“Don’t you ever feel guilty about defending yourself,” he chastised gently. “I’m damn glad you did; I don’t care if that son of a bitch was wearing my face. The thought of losing you because you didn’t want to hurt something that looks like me…”

He shut his eyes against the thought, holding you closer still. Gripping tight to him, it was your turn to soothe the worry and fear from his brow, nuzzling into his neck the way you knew he liked. He sucked in a deep breath, no doubt searching out your scent in the air. It used to freak you out a little, the way he could pick up your smell from halfway across the bunker, but now it brought a strange sort of comfort knowing that the very scent of you was enough to bring him peace.

“I can’t lose you, cher, I just can’t. When I saw those bruises around your neck and that bastard lying dead…I wanted to rip his throat out for putting his hands- my hands- on you like that. So don’t you ever feel guilty for doing what you have to do.”

“It’s not that easy, Benny. If it were you and a shifter attacked while looking like me, would you be able to do it? Could you kill them while my eyes were staring back at you?”

He didn’t have an answer for that. “Well, that’s-”

“Yes or no,” you interrupted, “could you kill something that looked like me?”

Now it was Benny’s turn to glance away. “No,” he muttered so quietly you had to strain to hear him.

“I didn’t think I could either,” you said, tears burning at your eyes once more, “but I did, and now all I see is you lying in the dirt with my knife sticking out of your chest.”

“Oh sweetheart, I’m right here and I don’t aim on goin’ anywhere anytime soon; I’ll always be here for as long as you’ll let me.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart,” he whispered, “til the sun stops burning.”

There was still so much more to say, but exhaustion pulled at your heavy eyes. The prospect of sleeping left you terrified, lest the nightmare return. “Benny?”

“Hmm?”

“Will you keep holding me? I don’t want the dream to come back.”

He chuckled. “Yes ma’am, that I can do.”

Benny kept to his word, easing you both back into the bed and flicking of the lamp without once letting go of you. Draping yourself over his chest, the quiet rumble of humming tickled your ear as you drifted back to sleep with the sounds of  _You Are My Sunshine_  filling your dreams.


End file.
